


Shades

by sumomomochi



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumomomochi/pseuds/sumomomochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His thighs tremble under your fingers, like they're the San Andreas Fault and your mouth is causing a nine-point-oh to rip through the downtown Los Angeles area. Shit, better call FEMA before half of Cali goes and falls off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades

"D-Dave, please," John stutters and moans, his thighs trembling under your fingers, like they're the San Andreas fault and your mouth is causing a nine-point-oh to rip through the downtown Los Angeles area. Shit, better call FEMA before half of Cali goes and falls off.

Speaking of falling off, that's where your dick might as well be headed, what with all the blood that's sitting in it. The only thing keeping it in place are your jeans, you're sure. You chose to ignore your own plight in favour of lavishing all your attention on John's spitting man cobra. It's thick and so very hot against your lips and you're unironically enjoying the whines he lets loose every time you pull away for a short second.

You slide your hands up his thighs, the heels of your palms firm against his flesh. You use two fingers on your left to adjust the angle of the, well, lack of dangle, actually, to the point where you're able to wrap your lips around your friend's bacon rod. You proceed to give the head of his spunk slinger a good, long suck. John whispers something that sounds suspiciously like, "Oh dear Jesus," and you snort, releasing the suction you hold. You look up at him through your shades, one eyebrow sarcastically quirked with his man meat resting against your cheek, oh so casually. 

"Actually," you drawl, "I prefer God." And then you decend on him again, sucking down as much of his cream cannon as you can, all in one go. He squawks, curling over you with one fist shoved against stupid-cute buck teeth as the sound dissolves into a needy moan. You instinctively rock your hips in response, even if there's nothing to rock against. You pull back slow, pressing your tongue firmly against the underside of his jizz bone, memorizing every contour and curve to the thing with your lips and teeth, before dropping back down just as fast, and by fast, you mean tediously slow. You manage to swallow him deeper, even if it takes all you've got not to gag. John lets out a string of repetitive curses, his hips bucking ever so slightly, and you smirk around his girth.

His man pole twitches on your tongue as you open your mouth wide, licking up the length of it. There's a hand on his knee next to your shoulder, a spattering of teethmarks on the knuckles. The other has a pretty firm grip on your other shoulder, fingers almost bruisingly tight. You slather on a generous amount of Strider Slober, tracing glistening lines from root to tip. John's panting over you, his hand gripping the back of your neck like he's trying to do the Vulcan nerve pinch or some shit. You dip the tip of your tongue into the slit splitting the tip, lapping away the precum welling up like it's going out of style. It's warm and fleshy, with just a slight bitter bite to it.

You continue to slobber all over Egbert's derp stick, enjoying the sights and sounds of uncharted territory, getting friendly with the locals, the like. John squirms and keens, his hips shivering under your fingertips. You smirk at the power you hold over the twerp. 

You suck him back into your mouth, wrapping your lips around Sergeant Stiffy and setting a swift pace. Striders get right to the fucking point, and you ain't no exception. John's breathe catches in his throat, coming out in a strangled moan. Both of his hands now come to rest on your head, fingers carding through your hair like this is a god damned romcom, so you ascend like you're climbing to the top of the cock sucking eche ladder and give the tip a good long drag. You get your desired result -- John's fingers tighten against your scalp, tugging at your hair, and your name is hissed between clenched teeth. You smirk around the flesh in your mouth.

A symphony of curses follows your name, each one getting progressively higher and higher as John climbs through the octaves with strain. You give the base of his shaft a squeeze as you pop your lips off ~~to give your jaw a rest~~ to press your tongue against the V under the head.

You jerk him a couple of times, panting surprisingly hard for such an activity and John goes, "Oh god, oh god, Dave, fuck, Jesus Christ, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, Dave!"

And then you've got goop dripping off your shades and down your chin and John has flopped back, limp on the bed. And you're still really fucking hard. And that was really fucking anti-climatic, Jesus dick.


End file.
